You hurt me.

You’ve placed blame on me,
You’ve beaten me down,
Throwing rocks of anger and disappointment,
Not realizing that
Every.
Single.
Time, that you throw a rock,
You’re chipping away.
You say you want to talk,
But you have to get your way.
Because if you don’t,

You throw a rock.
And another.
And another.
Until there is what feels like nothing left,
So then you can convince me to repay my debt,
Of life.
Of breath.
Of my existence.
So, I picked up a rock.

And you shattered.
Suddenly, you were the victim.
I was “disrespectful,”
I was “out of line,”
But it was nothing knew,
Because you said that all the time.

You threw rocks when you were the one in the glass house,
And when that got repaid,
You came undone,
And I will not take that blame.